


basic space

by Skyebyrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: D/s, M/M, NSFW, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin Free is the head of cinematography at the University of Texas at Austin, and he would love his job...if he didn't have the loudest and most brash teacher's assistant in the history of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	basic space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [quackingfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackingfish/gifts).



> Like it says in the notes, it's slight D/s, and if I portrayed it wrong, please tell me! I don't want to put anything in a bad light, because D/s is so beautiful and lovely and just- wow. okay yeah please tell me how I can improve!
> 
> Title taken from Basic Space by the xx

Gavin Free can’t think of many things that he can complain about in his life. He is the head cinematography teacher at the University of Texas in Austin, he’s living with one of his best friends and has a beautiful office, his check is so ridiculous he can never tell if the other teachers really want him that much, or just his money, and he’s allowed to drink (within reason) on campus.

There is one drawback to working here, however.

“Mr. Free, when are the student’s projects due, again?”

And that’s his teaching assistant.

“Michael, quit calling me that, it’s weird, and they’re due next Friday. You’d know that if you paid any attention during the lesson that was supposed to be yours to teach today if you weren’t late, _again_.” And, yeah, maybe Gavin snaps a bit more than he should if he wants to seem professional, but _really_ , this man is absolutely insufferable. He’s loud and brash and disrespectful to the umpth degree and doesn’t know how to not curse in every other sentence, which makes for an entertaining class for the students, sure, but for Gavin? It’s just obnoxious.   

 “Yeah, well, y’know _Gavin_ , maybe if I was TA-ing for someone that was teaching something I actually cared about, I’d pay attention and not be late, but seeing as how I’m not, then no.” Michael called over to him from the other side of the room as Gavin does some last minute prep-work for the next class; he pushes some papers together and gets his camera ready.

Michael Jones, his teaching assistant for cinematography three days out of the week, has a desk on the side of the classroom, just opposite Gavin’s own. It isn’t a small classroom, really, but it certainly isn’t a lecture hall; it houses twenty-two students per class, and Gavin has two of them in a day, at eleven and four. Michael comes in to help him with the morning class and studies in the afternoon class, as that one is just ahead of the other, as a way to help him with his teaching.

Well, y’know, if Michael actually helped him at all.

“If you want this credit to transfer over to your degree, Michael, then you’d pay attention or else I’ll give you bad marks.” Okay, maybe Gavin won’t grade him too harshly, but really, what else can he threaten him with?

“Yeah. That’s what you said last quarter, Gavvy. And guess who still managed to get a B?”

And with that loud brag from his assistant, something in Gavin snaps.

Seeing red, he picks up the camera and his lesson plan and marches over to Michael’s desk, the TA’s eyes widening behind his glasses with every step Gavin makes towards him.

“You know what, Michael? Fine. Bloody fine. You think you know so much about me, then you can teach the next class. Here’s the camera, and here’s the lesson plan,” Gavin plops said items on Michael’s desktop, “and I wish you the best of luck.”

“But that’s the class I study in! How am I supposed to teach it?” He protests, eyes still wide and cheeks flushed; he stands up as Gavin turns around, trying to stop him.

“Figure it out.”

And Gavin sashays out of the room like the dramatic summer child he is, and he feels fucking good about it.

…

While he goes over to the university’s coffee shop for a much needed break, Gavin recalls the first day Michael had ever stepped into his office, face flushed and panting from trying not to be late and apologizing his pants off for his disheveled appearance. Gavin had looked up to see just about the hottest person he had ever seen, with his curly russet hair and chocolate brown eyes and, _oh_ , Gavin had always had a bit of a thing for freckles, but-

“I’m sure you aren’t late, and your appearance is lovely-” God, Gavin, way to be inconspicuous, “but who are you?”

And with that, the boy had looked affronted, and said “Well, I’m your new teacher’s assistant. Michael Jones. You’re Gavin Free, the head of the robotics department, right?” They had been both silent for a few moments more, Gavin looking more and more confused and Michael looking more and more distressed. “You requested me?”

 _Oh, the poor boy_ , Gavin had thought. _This isn’t going to be pretty_.

“Well, I am the head of robotics right now, but I’m really only standing in for Ryan Haywood. I suppose he’s the one who requested you, but he’s on paternity leave for the next few months, so he appointed me to take over. I’m really only head of the film department, and I teach cinematography. I just fax things over to Ryan so he can do his job from home, really.” Gavin had stuttered out, and the boy’s shoulders obviously slumped down and his mouth dropped open.

“So what you’re saying is that I’m TA-ing for cinematography when I’m supposed to be TA-ing for robotics.” His voice had sounded like he was barely suppressing anger, and Gavin had watched as his (very large and wonderful) hands had flexed into fists.

“Well, yes. Ryan won’t be back until March, and-”

“March? I end my TA in January!” And with Gavin’s words, the boy had snapped, his brown eyes ablaze and- well, Gavin never said he didn’t have a thing for being put in his place. Gavin had shifted in his seat, and tried to remain calm.

“Look, I’m sorry about that, but there’s really nothing I can do for you. I’m sure you’ll come to love cinematography, though! It’s a beautiful artform!”

And somehow, through a pure miracle, Gavin had managed to convince him to stay as his TA, but it just went downhill from there, because really, Michael didn’t give two shits from the beginning.

…

As his spot in line inches closer to the register, he notices one of his students from the previous class is going to be his barista. It’s not the first time he’s seen her here, thank God, or else he doesn’t know what he’d do. The first time he had come across her here was awkward as anything, and he’s glad they’re past it.

“Hey, Barbara, can you give me the usual?” Gavin says to her, and she smiles brightly, ringing him up as he pulls his wallet out; he’s the last in line, so while she makes people’s drinks, she chats with him.

“So how’s your day been going so far, Mr. Free?” She asks him as she readies a few cups, and he shrugs.

“To be honest? Not very well. Mich- er, Mr. Jones has been a right pain in the arse, and I don’t really know how much longer I can stand him. You know we have him through the end of January? It’s only November and I’m ready to kick him out, to be honest.”

Barbara nods to show she’s listening, and then she glances at the clock, presumably to see how much longer she has to get the drinks out before her customers are annoyed at her, but then she turns to him.

“Don’t you have a class right now, Mr. Free?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, measuring out some milk.

“Yeah, but I left Mr. Jones to take care of them.”

Barbara stops what she’s doing and gives him a very distinct Look Of Disapproval.  

“What?” He asks, even though he knows very well what that look is for. “Okay, Barb, I know that maybe leaving him to teach the class wasn’t the best of decisions,” she scoffs at that, “but he was pissing me off! He just keeps going on and on about how cinematography is useless and he doesn’t give two figs about it, and I just-” Gavin lets out a frustrated sound and runs his fingers through his hair. Barbara places his cup on the counter and just continues looking at him with that _stare_.

“Do you think I should go back?” Gavin asks, taking his coffee. Barbara says nothing and just continues her staring. “I probably should, shouldn’t I?”

Still, no response. _Now this is just ridiculous_ , he thinks as he takes a drink from his coffee, pouting.

A minute later, Gavin sighs deeply.

“I’ll go rescue him, I suppose.”

Barbara immediately smiles.

“Great! I knew you’d listen to me, Mr. Free.” Her voice is bright as always, and she goes about cleaning her station. “Good luck!”

And with that, Gavin follows the breeze back to his classroom. The air is warm but full of movement, and it wrestles with his hair and tie. The door to his classroom is hard to open, the knob always being tricky, but he finally manages to yank it open out of pure luck.

And what he sees is such a huge surprise it leaves his mind reeling.

…

“I’m just saying, Gavin, I don’t know why you think it’s so weird I was actually teaching the class. You’re the one who fucking told me to do it, why shouldn’t I have?” Michael’s voice snaps at him as he sits down at his desk, but Gavin still can’t quite wrap his mind around it.

“But- Michael! You were teaching the class! You were explaining everything better than even _I_ could have explained it, and the class was under control and actually taking notes which I’ve never been able to get them to do-”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you acted like their teacher and not their fucking friend-”

“And I had no idea you knew anything about cameras at all but you were telling them things I hadn’t even put in my teaching plan for the day, and- Michael it was amazing!”

And yeah, maybe Gavin’s a bit loud and he’s too excited, but Michael _was teaching the class._

When Gavin walked into the classroom, there Michael was at the head of it, the projector showing what Michael was filming in real time as he handled the camera like a living piece of art and Michael speaking in a full voice that sounded so confident and betrayed no nervousness at all. Gavin had been in complete awe and his mouth had dropped (and maybe he had almost dropped his coffee), but he honestly hadn’t expected to see that. At all.

And maybe the way Michael’s voice reverberated around the room echoed into Gavin’s bones, just a bit.

“Why are you still shocked? I looked over the fucking notes you gave me and I _do_ pay attention at least a little bit in that class, you just never fucking care about what I do, asshole. I may not give two shits about the class, but that doesn’t mean I don’t put any fucking effort into it. I mean, you are the one that makes me grade everybody’s papers and projects, so even if I didn’t pay attention in class, I’d get at least some shit out of that.” Michael sounds irritated by this point, but, Gavin notices, he isn’t angry. He’s almost…meek? No, not the right word, but Michael’s cheeks are blushing just the littlest bit under Gavin’s attention, and he hasn’t made eye contact with him once since they locked eyes when Gavin had first walked into the classroom and Michael had snapped at him to either take a seat or leave.

Needless to say, Gavin had hurried to his desk to watch with a smile and wide eyes.

“But I never knew! You always moan and gripe about havin’ to be here, so I just figured you’d never paid attention in class before. This is like a Christmas miracle, Michael!” Gavin says as he leans against Michael’s desk, ignoring the fact that it’s still only November and Christmas is a month and a half away, yet. The teaching assistant just scratches behind his right ear.

“Yeah, well, you told me to do it so I did what you asked, can we just leave it at that?”

And, oh, Michael’s definitely blushing at this point. It’s bright red and flushes almost down his neck, but Gavin can’t quite figure out what he has to be embarrassed about.

“Well, alright.” Gavin says, haltingly, trying to figure it out. Maybe he just doesn’t like to be praised a lot? That’d be odd considering his personality, but certainly not completely out of the ballpark. “But thank you for doing what I asked you to, Michael. It’s nice to think I can count on you, now.”

“Yeah, sure, you’re welcome.” Michael mumbles and goes about stacking up the papers students had turned in early.

 Gavin goes back to his desk, and when Michael gets up to go home for the day, he stops by his desk and asks if Gavin wants him to teach the same lesson to the class in the morning.

Gavin’s smile is bright as he replies with “Yes, thank you Michael.” And the boy walks back to his dorm.

…

The next morning, when Gavin walks into the classroom, he sees Michael already there, setting up the projector and the camera; Gavin notices Michael’s lesson plans laid out across his desk, so he looks them over to make sure they’re on track with his own.

While he’s doing this, he thinks to himself s that this is the first time he’s felt like Michael’s doing his job properly. It causes a burning sensation in his chest, and he supposes it’s pride, but it’s also something else he can’t quite place.

“These are good, Michael, thank you.” Gavin says, placing the plans on Michael’s desk; he notices Michael stills a little bit when he says so, and all Michael does is nod in reply.

He’s blushing again.

Gavin takes a seat at his desk, his own lesson plans in front of him in case Michael accidentally leaves something out, but judging from yesterday’s performance, Gavin doubts it will happen. But, better safe than not.

Students begin arriving about ten minutes until class begins, and they’re all shocked to see Michael there before them, much less preparing for a lesson. A few of them give both Michael and Gavin strange looks, and a few more motion to Gavin, asking if it’s a good idea; all he replies with is a smile and a thumbs up.

At five after, Michael begins class, stuttering out an order for students to take their seats and to get out their books, and Gavin brushes it off as nerves; he hadn’t been present when Michael had begun class yesterday, so perhaps his presence is unnerving him. Completely understandable.

However, ten minutes into class, Michael still hasn’t gotten the full attention of the class, and he can barely be heard at Gavin’s desk, let alone the back of the room. He’s skipped the first bullet point on his lesson plan, and has had to pull them out at least three times since he began class, and finally, Gavin can’t take it anymore.

“Mr. Jones.” Gavin calls out to him, and Michael immediately stops speaking and toying with the camera in all the wrong ways, and they lock eyes. Gavin sees Michael’s fear and unease clear as day, but his voice remains strong. “Why don’t you begin again, by telling them how to properly handle the Phantom, yes?”

Gavin’s happy to see Michael gain confidence immediately, his voice gaining the strength from yesterday and he holds the Phantom gently, with care, and his fingers are as nimble as a bird’s wings. He doesn’t need to see his lesson plans again during the class, and he explains everything perfectly; Gavin doesn’t have to add in anything after the first interruption.

And maybe he sees that Michael’s cheeks redden with Gavin’s tone, but that stays between the two of them. That burning sensation in his chest comes back upon seeing what Michael does for him, upon seeing how well Michael takes orders.

It’s the best thing he’s ever felt; it’s toxic and addicting and he can’t stop thinking about, doesn’t stop thinking about it all through Michael’s class with the boy in front of him, standing tall and proud; then his own class, with Michael sitting at his desk and dutifully taking notes on anything and everything and they meet each other’s gaze so much more often than ever before; or back at his house, where Geoff tries to pull him out of his thoughts of Michael and it doesn’t work; or in his dreams that night, with Michael doing anything and everything that Gavin asks him to do.

 It’s all he thinks about.

He wakes up with red cheeks and soiled sheets, and he knows he’s in deep shit.

…

When Gavin arrives at his building the next morning, there’s a girl with red hair and a sweet face he doesn’t recognize, but she walks up to him immediately upon noticing him.

“Hi, are you Mr. Free?” She asks him, even if it’s a bit awkwardly.

“Yes, I am.” He replies, opening the door and motioning for her to follow him; he’s not trying to be rude, but considering what he needs to speak to Michael about (it wouldn’t do to put it off), he didn’t want to push it off until too late in case students begin arriving and interrupt them. He’s a man on a mission.

“Oh, okay, good.” She laughs. “Michael sent me down here; you weren’t answering your phone, so he sent me down here to tell you he’s really sick and can’t make either class today, and that he’s sorry and that he hopes you won’t be too hard on him.”

With that, Gavin stops.

“Michael’s…sick? Today?”

The girl squints her eyes at him. “Yes; he insists it’s just a cold, but I think it’s the flu, the way he was coughing.”

Gavin pauses for a long time, just looking at her, trying to understand, because for some reason he just-

“Thank you for telling me, er-”

“Lindsay. I’m a good friend of Michael’s.”

Gavin nods, hardly listening to her, and shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“Thank you, Lindsay. Do you, uh, do you happen to know what dorm Michael lives in? And what room?”

At this, Lindsay laughs loudly, and through that, she barely manages to say, “Damn, Michael was right about you, Mr. Free. He lives in Blanton Hall, 5C.” She chuckles some more. “Have fun, Mr. Free.”

And, still laughing, she leaves.

Gavin doesn’t bother pretending how his request sounded, but he is curious as to what Michael had said to Lindsay about him and what was just proved. He shakes his head again, rips out a random, clean piece of paper out of his binder, and writes a quick note on it that he tapes to his class’s door.

_Class cancelled for the day, will resume tomorrow. Homework is on the syllabus online._

…

Gavin stands outside Michael’s door, his hand poised to knock on the door.

This is weird, right? He’s being fucking creepy, oh, God, he’s the weirdest person on this planet, _normal people don’t do this, Gavin_ -

“Can I help you, man?” A voice sounds to his right, and Gavin starts.

“Uh, well, I- who are you?” He stutters out, and the guy in front of him just looks like he’s weirded out.

“I’m the guy that lives in 5C. Can I help you or what, dude?”

Gavin looks a bit closer at him, seeing how short he is; he has a pair of shorts on with long socks and the oddest checkered shoes Gavin’s ever seen, and he’s wearing glasses. He seems like just a typical college student, in Gavin’s opinion.

“Uh, Lindsay- er, one of Michael’s friends told me that he’s sick, so I-” He holds up the thermos in his hand, “brought soup? Do you think you could give it to him for me, maybe?”

Gavin’s never sounded so unsure of himself before, but all the guy does is laugh at him.

“I’m guessing you’re Mr. Free?” Gavin nods, and the guy shakes his head. “Come in and give it to him yourself.” He says, unlocking the door and motioning for Gavin to follow him. “I’m Ray, by the way.”

Ray throws his keys onto a bed in front of them, and Gavin takes a look around the dorm room. There’s three beds in total: one in front of him (presumably Ray’s bed), and two on the side of the dorm, one of them occupied. Gavin would bet his bottom dollar it’s Michael, curled up under the blankets and fast asleep.

Gavin wonders what he looks like while asleep.

“That’s Michael, as I’m sure you guessed. You can wake him up; he told me to wake him up when I got back anyways, so you doing it won’t be a huge deal. You’ve got food, anyway, so it’ll be even better.” Gavin nods, but doesn’t move; he bites his lip.

He’s the weirdest fucking teacher.

Teachers don’t do this for students, or teaching assistants, or, hell, other teachers. He wouldn’t even do this for _Geoff_ , for Christ’s sake.

So why is he doing this for Michael?

Ray continues speaking. “I’d leave you two alone, but I’ve got a paper to write and none of the computers were open in the library when I swung by earlier. There’s a chair at Kerry’s desk you can borrow, if you don’t wanna touch Michael’s infected bedspread.”

And with those words of advice, Ray puts some headphones on and sits down on his bed, laptop in hand, and begins clacking away.

“Right, then.” Gavin mutters to himself, and grabs the chair from the only desk in the room (thankfully it’s the only one, considering he has no idea who Kerry is). He pulls the chair over to the head of Michael’s bed, and sits down in it; he’s aware Ray is facing their way, but hopefully he’s too immersed in his writing to pay them any mind.

Hopefully.

Gavin reaches a hand forward and gently shakes Michael’s shoulder, jostling him awake.

“Wha- Ray, what time is it?” Michael mumbles, voice slurring with sleep, and he coughs right after.

“Well, it’s Gavin, first off, and it’s right about noon.” Gavin says, and Michael sits up almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?”

Michael’s hair is unruly at best, and his face is paler than usual, and his skin shines with sweat. His freckles stick out, and his glasses are gone, so Gavin can clearly see his beautiful eyes.

“I- Lindsay told me you were sick. So, I brought you some soup.” Gavin holds up the thermos again, and Michael just stares at it. He doesn’t make a single move to grab it, so after a few awkward moments, Gavin just sets it down on the bedside table. “It’s a bit weird, yeah, but. I mean. I don’t know why I did it, to be honest.”

“Thank you.” Michael says hesitantly, sitting up completely. He coughs again, and Gavin looks around for some water; he sees a mini-fridge beneath the desk, and opens it to find a few bottles. He brings two over, giving one to Michael and setting the other one next to the thermos.

“You’re welcome.” Gavin replies once Michael’s coughing fit has gone down.

“Why are you here? You have a class right now.” Michael looks at him with curiosity, eyebrows scrunched together.

“You were sick. I wanted to bring you soup.” Gavin shrugs.

“Why?”

Gavin shrugs again. “I guess…I guess I wanted to give you something. You’ve been good recently, so-”

At his choice of words, they both blush; at least Michael has the excuse of a fever, but Gavin’s is obvious, and he curses every god in existence for it.

“S-so I just wanted to give it to you. Maybe it’d help you get better soon, I don’t know.”

He’s fiddling with his fingers while saying this, looking nowhere near Michael, but then he’s surprised.

“Can I at least get a fucking spoon?” Michael says, and Gavin looks up to see that he’s holding the thermos in his hands, the top off and lying beside him. Gavin smiles.

“There’s one in the cap. It unfolds like a pocket knife.”

Michael’s voice is teasing. “Man, breaking out the big bucks, Mr. Free.”

They both laugh, quiet, and then Michael begins eating.

“It’s just chicken noodle soup. I didn’t know what to get you, since there were surprisingly a lot of options, but I figured chicken noodle soup was as safe a bet as anything, y’know?” Gavin rambles on, trying to fill the silence, and Michael just nods through another bite.

“Well, you’re lucky.” He says once he’s swallowed, and he smiles. “Chicken noodle soup’s my favorite.”

Gavin smiles back.

“Great, that’s great.” He was proud to have done something right, and to have given something back to Michael.

It’s silent until Michael finishes his soup, Gavin just looking around at the dorm in the meantime. There’s posters all over the walls, not unlike the posters in his own room at home: Halo, Minecraft, and other assorted video games, but also some for a few anime shows he’s never heard of and ones he has, and then on the far wall near Ray are some posters of boy bands, which is odd, definitely, but whatever the boy likes, Gavin supposes.

“So thanks for the soup, but why’d you cancel class just to bring it to me? You could’ve waited until the morning class ended, or until tonight.” Michael says when he tries to give Gavin back the thermos, but Gavin just puts it back on the table; he brought it for Michael, and for Michael it shall stay.

Gavin pauses, thinking it over.

“I’m not sure, really.”

They lock eyes, and they both know very well why he cancelled class that afternoon.

Michael’s a bit breathless when he asks, “You’re not?”

Gavin can hear how much hope is in his voice, and sees the stars in his eyes, and Gavin feels like Michael’s fever is inching along his own skin.

 _Fuck it_.

“Do you want to go out to dinner with me, Michael?”

Michael’s eyes widen.

“Uh, well. I mean.” His face is blushing heavily, even more so than before, and Gavin almost tries to justify himself when Michael cracks a smile.

“You never answered my question, Gavin.”

Gavin feels frustration itch up his spine. “And you never answered mine.”

Michael’s grin just grows wider, and he coughs again.

“Sure, I’ll answer you when you answer me.” Gavin groans. “You know very well why you’re here right now, and why you cancelled class, _and_ you know my answer. So tell me.”

They just look at each other until Gavin breaks it, turning around and looking at Ray; he hadn’t heard the boy’s fingers fly across any keys for about five minutes now, and knows he’s eavesdropping.

“Ray, fuck off to the library or something.” Michael calls out, and Ray immediately sighs deeply.

“Y’all never let me hear anything.” He gripes, but he gathers his laptop and leaves the room promptly.

Gavin turns his attention back to Michael, who raises his eyebrows expectantly. “Well?” He asks.

He bites his lip before opening his mouth, and closing it right back up. “This is really awkward for me, Michael.”

Michael just scoffs. “Like it isn’t for me? You’re my _teacher_ , Gavin. Both of us could get in so much trouble just for you hanging out in my room without supervision.”

Gavin winces at the reminder. “That doesn’t…that doesn’t- _bother_ you, Michael, does it? Because I totally respect whatever you say regarding that, I understand the social stigma associated with it, I just-”

Michael grabs his hand, and Gavin’s mouth falls shut.

“I’m fine with it, Gavin, just answer the fucking question.”

Gavin nods.

“I cancelled class today because I couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing if you were okay or not.”

Gavin’s and Michael’s eyes are looking into each other, and Gavin is frozen; he doesn’t want to move anytime soon. Michael nods, slowly, and blinks.

“I also might be a little bit impatient.”

“Okay.” He nods again. “I can work with that.”

He smiles at Gavin, and Gavin smiles back.

“Now how about dinner?”

…

They don’t have the time to eat until a week later; it’s a Wednesday night, which wouldn’t be Gavin’s choice, normally, but Michael has such a busy schedule that it’s the only day he doesn’t have too much homework to take a few hours off to eat. After the afternoon class, they both lock up the classroom and walk off together, catching the bus to downtown and walking the streets.

It’s hot out, but the night is beginning to cool off, thankfully; Gavin sweats easily, and considering this is their first date, he doesn’t want to make a bad impression.

Well, at least he’s pretty sure it’s their first date.

Like, ninety-five percent.

 A solid eighty.

“You wanna go get some pizza?” Michael asks, cutting into the silence, and Gavin immediately nods.

“Whatever you want.”

Michael grins.

“I think I can live with that.”

…

To be honest, Gavin hadn’t really expected his Christmas to end up like this.

He’s sitting in Geoff’s living room, watching as the Ramseys sing carols and try to goad Gavin into joining them; Burnie’s already given into their begging and belts out a few notes, but everyone just groans and orders him to stop.

Michael’s tucked up on the couch next to him, and where their bodies touch is just that much warmer than everywhere else.

And maybe, after a few glasses of Geoff’s “special eggnog” and some whiskey, he knows exactly what he wants to do.

“Michael, come on, I got another present for you.”

Yeah, that is really cheesy and obvious, but he’s Gavin Free. He’s not exactly known for subtlety.

Everyone cheers and makes obnoxious noises at them as Gavin leads Michael into the backyard, Michael telling everyone to fuck off, but they both have smiles and blushes that give them away as easy as anything. Gavin opens the door to his building in the backyard and doesn’t bother turning on any lights; the moon’s out tonight, and he never shuts his curtains. It’s enough for them.

Gavin pulls Michael closer, and their lips touch, curling upwards in happy smiles. It isn’t the first time they’ve kissed, not by a long shot, nor is it the first time they’ve been in here alone, but it’s the first time they’re going to have sex.

Well, if Michael’s okay with that, anyway.

Gavin’s been thinking about fucking Michael since day one, having him laid out in front of him, begging and pliable and willing to do anything and everything that Gavin asks him to do, and it goes straight to his head (yes, that one, thank you).

Gavin’s hands slowly trail around Michael’s hips, sliding up underneath his shirt to touch his skin; Michael takes his shirt off and Gavin follows suit, easily. Their lips connect again, and Gavin can’t stop touching, and feeling, and _wanting_ -

Michael pushes him onto the bed, climbing on top of him, and the breath leaves Gavin’s lungs.

“Are you okay with this, Michael?” He asks after leaving a mark on his neck, claiming him like the selfish boy he is inside.

And, of course, Michael’s a little shit, so he asks “Okay with what, exactly, Gavin?” He licks the hickey he just left, and Gavin shudders. “What exactly are we gonna do tonight?”

Michael grinds himself against Gavin, and he has to shut his eyes, tight. The movement keeps on, steady as a wave, and it’s drowning him in its completeness.

“If you-” Gavin chokes as Michael thrusts down on him again. “If you want to be a good boy, Michael, you’ll answer my question.”

Michael stops moving.

“I’m fine with anything you want to do tonight, Gavin.” He answers the second Gavin finishes his sentence, and Gavin opens his eyes to see Michael still above him, eyes wide and ears open.

Gavin flips them over.

“Good.”

Gavin kisses Michael again, hard, their tongues moving together, connecting again and again, and it feels so perfect that Gavin never wants his mouth to be anywhere else. In some far-off point in his mind, he knows where Michael’s hand is, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants and shoving his hand down his pants and- _oh_.

He lets out a groan, Michael echoing it right back to him, and if that isn’t the sound of angels, Gavin doesn’t know what is. He wants to hear it reverberate in his skin forever, always wants it in between his sheets and maybe at the office sometimes; he’ll do anything to hear it again.

“That feels so good Michael, don’t ever stop.” Gavin urges into Michael’s open mouth, and Michael whines back. “You’re so good, Michael, your hand feels so perfect.”

And when Michael groans something completely absolute and adoring, Gavin thinks to himself, _ah, that’s the ticket, love_.

Gavin inches his own hand below Michael’s belt, grabbing his length, and Michael’s actually bigger than Gavin had supposed he would be, but all’s well that ends well. Gavin yanks Michael’s cock out of his pants, but the angle’s still wrong, so he pulls himself away and pulls both their pants off. Michael laughs a little bit, but when Gavin tells him to, he stops.

Gavin leans over Michael again, straddling him, and grabs their cocks in one hand, and the sounds Michael makes are positively delicious. Gavin slowly moves his hand up and down, the feeling of their cocks rubbing together making him see stars, and gradually speeds up his movements until they’re both panting and their chests are tight and flushed.

Their mouths are all over each other; on each other’s necks and shoulders, cheeks, ears, panting into each other’s open mouths as they try to breathe meaning into each other. Michael’s hand reaches down to grab Gavin’s, and their fingers tie together.

“I- Gavin, I can’t- I’m not going to-” Michael pants out, but Gavin just shushes him.

“It’ll- It’s fine, Michael, you’re so good, you’re so perfect, Michael, you feel so good and your voice is lovely, don’t ever stop making those sounds for me, Michael, don’t ever stop-” Gavin rambles on and on, Michael’s whines and moans becoming higher-pitched as they come closer and closer, and they aren’t even going to make it all the way, they’re so desperate for completion.

“Am I good for you, Gavin?” Michael asks, voice and lips wrecked. “Have I been good for you?”

“You’re so perfect, Michael, you're a perfect little boy.” Michael’s free hand joins Gavin’s on their cocks, and it feels so much better. “You’re all I could ever have asked for, Michael, I promise.” Michael’s face is so debauched, mouth open wide and eyes staring into Gavin’s and head thrown back, cheeks flushed. “You’ve been so good to me, Michael, I promise, you’re so good.”

Their breath is ragged, and Michael can barely speak but he asks one more thing.

“Can I come for you, Gavin?”

And Gavin’s never been able to resist any kind of temptation so he kisses Michael hard, stroking their dicks faster and faster. “Yes, Michael, come for me, darling, you deserve to feel so good, Michael.”

And Michael does, Gavin swallowing every single sound he makes with their connected mouths.

“Come on, Michael, that’s right, that’s good.” Gavin murmurs into Michael’s neck as he shudders out his orgasm. When Michael finishes and sees Gavin still hasn’t finished, is still desperate for release, he takes Gavin’s cock in hand and strokes him quickly and expertly, and it’s definitely the best handjob he’s ever had.

His orgasm rips through him a few minutes later, pounding through him as Michael tells him how happy he is, and how glad he is that Gavin is coming for him. Michael’s hand feels so good on his cock and he’s still coming; the orgasm doesn’t let up, helps him through the waves and he’s still coming, harder than he has in a long time.

“I think I love you, Michael.” Gavin says when he collapses on Michael’s body, worn out and tired.

And under the moonlight on Christmas, the sweat making their skin stick together, closer than they’ve ever been before, Michael replies.

“I love you too.”


End file.
